


The Queen

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [194]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, Don't Post To Another Site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healing, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Stephen stared down at the chess piece in his hand. The Queen. All powerful but even she could be beat without proper strategizing.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [194]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1118655
Comments: 13
Kudos: 104





	The Queen

Stephen ran his trembling fingers over the gentle curves of the chess piece in his hand. Staring down at it, he watched as the thin light from streetlamps below glistened on its dark surface. Around and around he twirled the piece, thumb pressing against the little ball on top hard enough to sting before smoothing it around the crown. Stephen had always found this particular piece odd, the all-powerful queen running to sacrifice herself for the stationary and helpless king. 

  
He knew better now. 

  
Outside the first snowflakes of the season were beginning their drifting descent onto the earth below, intent on layering it in pristine white. Except, it wasn’t so pristine anymore. Stephen had seen the subtle looks of fear earlier that day as heads turned toward the sky in unison, memories of ash blanketing the city obvious on so many innocent faces. 

  
One day they would forget. Would let the memories slide into darkness along with all the horror they brought. It was what humans were best at. 

  
Not Stephen though. 

  
Around his chest the Stone seemed to throb within its protective shielding, as though it were apologetic, and Stephen found himself wrapping his other hand tightly around it. He never went far without the Stone these days, much to Wong’s growing concern. The right words didn’t seem to exist to explain he wouldn’t use, had no intention of ever using it again…but couldn’t quite seem to let it go. 

  
Only yesterday Peter had made a reference to Stephen’s hold on the stone like Frodo was with the ring. The comparison had turned his stomach, he wasn’t being influenced by it, even if it seemed to actively comfort him in moments like this. Moments where the memories were just a little too close to the surface and normalcy but a distant dream. 

  
Which was why Stephen often retreated to sanctuary that was his study. The fireplace crackled with familiarity behind him and the large window with slowly creeping frost offered a welcome distraction. On the desk, covered in shadow were half a dozen files on various sorcerers with whom Wong insisted he speak to, all of which were a nagging annoyance on a night when he knew he needed to pick the most. 

  
Even sorcerers, Wong was fond of reminding him, can be traumatized. 

  
He had bristled the first time his friend had mentioned it. Eyes narrowed and jaw clenching to hold back a tirade of anger and denial. It had been a near thing, Stephen’s hands clenching into fists, until his eyes had landed on Tony, standing a few feet behind Wong. The man he loved had been watching with a resigned a frown and glistening in the depths of those familiar brown irises, which was more arresting then any words Wong could have spoken. 

  
PTSD was not something he would insult. Not with a survivor standing there and not knowing the long and brutal path his lover had traversed to remain sane today. Instead, Stephen had walked away and sequestered himself in his room where he could rant and throw and hit until he accepted he was broken. 

  
He wished he could say it felt good to admit it. But it didn’t and wouldn’t be until Stephen finally picked from the list of people Wong had offered him.

Meanwhile, Tony had been steady as a tree in the forest, weathering Stephen’s moods and lightly encouraging in that unobtrusive way he was so good at. 

  
“Stephen?”

  
His voice was quiet and weary, coming from the shadows of the doorway as though uncertain he was welcome into this space. Stephen appreciated it more then he could describe, being allowed to have some room that could still be his alone, the same he tried to do for Tony at the penthouse. 

  
“Come in,” he murmured. 

  
Tony moved across the hardwood floors like a ghost, like a dream come to life. It last but a moment, tendrils of green fading in the corners of his eyes, until he was staring up at Tony, his Tony. Clad only in boxers and a black tank top, scruffy beard and dark circles making him look tired and drawn, it was impossible for Stephen not to smile. 

  
Tony answered with a small one of his own and perched on the edge of the desk, not touching, not yet, “what do you have there?” 

  
Stephen lifted the chess piece he’s been obsessively twirling, held it out to Tony with the tips of his fingers. His lover plucked it from his grasp, eyebrows raised, “the queen. Fitting for you I think.”

  
Tony snorted shaking his head and placing the piece on the desk with a quiet tap, “does that make you the king?”

  
Against his chest the Stone throbbed an affirmative, brief flashes of Stephen moving people like chess pieces on Titan. It hurt more then he would admit, like the Stone was reprimanding him for something, “yes. I suppose so.”

  
Something in his voice must have given away the strange headspace Stephen was in, if the office hadn’t already done so. Tony looked at him, slowly running his gaze up the length of his body before reaching out silently.   
Stephen didn’t even hesitate like he once would, simply slid trembling fingers into steady ones and let Tony heave him to his feet. Strong arms wrapped around him, just holding him for the moment until a quiet whisper interrupted the tranquility of Tony’s warmth. 

  
“Take it off.”

  
Stephen stilled. 

  
“Please. Just for tonight.”

  
Another throb but this time Stephen couldn’t tell if it was from displeasure or acceptance. For the first time since Titan it occurred to him that it didn’t matter. Somewhere along the way, Stephen had forgotten that he was the master of all his relics, even ones as powerful as the Stone and that it was his decision what to do with them. The only problem was that Stephen didn’t really want to take it off. Already he anticipated feeling naked and defenseless without it. 

  
“It will be ok, I promise. Trust me.”

  
Stephen slumped all at once hearing those words. He became acutely aware of the fact that there was nothing metal pressing into his chest where Tony held him, no blue light emanating from a housing unit on his chest.   
Tony understood how if felt to want something there to protect you and your loved ones. 

  
“Ok.”  
The word slipped out unconsciously but the quiet exhale of relief made it worth it as he took his foot step towards something that didn’t feel so precarious. 


End file.
